


Tell Me a Story

by what_the_nesmith



Series: Monkees Exchange [2]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, all of this series is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_the_nesmith/pseuds/what_the_nesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's caught Micky's cold and he can't seem to fall asleep. So he asks Davy and Mike to tell him a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me a Story

“Achoo!” Peter sneezed loudly into the crook of his arm, nearly falling off his chair. Micky grabbed his bowl of cereal and brought it close to his chest, looking very offended as if Peter had sneezed directly into his breakfast. 

“God bless you,” Davy said almost exactly the same time Micky complained, “Gross man, don’t sneeze on my cereal.” Peter looked apologetically at Micky. 

“Sorry Micky, swear I didn’t mean it, I can’t help it,” Peter apologized, rubbing at his nose with his sleeve. He sounded as if he had plugged up his nose in preparation for a dive in the ocean. Mike pushed a box of tissues in Peter’s direction. 

“It’s just a cold Micky,” Mike commented, “And you ain’t getting it cos yer the one who gave it to Peter.” 

“I’m the only one who’s going to get it next, because you’ve already gotten over it Mike,” pointed out Davy. 

“I’ll try not to give it to you,” Peter promised before blowing his nose. 

“Oh don’t be a baby, Davy, it won’t kill you,” mumbled Mike, getting up and gathering the dirty dishes of Peter and Davy (Micky was still scarfing down his cereal). 

“Plus,” Micky added around a large spoonful of cereal, “It’s not like you ever get sick.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Mike agreed, beginning the washing up. Davy wandered over to the sink to do the drying and putting away. 

“I know, but I’d rather not get sick because we need to get a good gig to do,” said Davy. 

“See I’d rather you get sick sooner rather than later just for that reason,” Mike countered. Davy gave the texan a glare as he took the wet bowl he offered and began drying it. Peter sneezed loudly again, a chest rattling cough following. 

“I hate having a cold,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before standing up and making his way over to the lounge chair where he flopped down. Nearly immediately Peter fell asleep. Mike usually would put up a fuss, considering he’d rather have Peter be resting in his own bed and not in the middle of the living room area, but he thought he’d keep that to himself today. Davy and Mike finished up the washing, letting Micky clean up his own dishes since he had decided to eat a second bowl of cereal. Later in the afternoon, Peter was still sleeping on the lounge chair. Micky and Davy wanted to head down to the beach for a walk, insisting that Mike come along with them. Not one to disappoint, Mike reluctantly agreed, and so the trio went down to the beach. It wasn’t as crowded as usual, with a thin crowd of people, a perfect day for a walk on the sand (near the water of course, or else a foot could get burnt). Like usual, Micky was walking ahead of Davy and Mike, who were walking side by side nearly holding hands. They had walked far enough that they were able to stop and get some ice cream from a vendor. 

“What a drag that Peter’s sick,” commented Micky as he licked the already melting ice cream off the cone. 

“He’ll be better soon enough,” Davy replied, licking at his ice cream. He offered some to Mike, who hadn’t purchased anything from the vendor. Mike shrugged and then took the cone from Davy. Micky grinned and then grabbed Davy’s hand, pulling the smaller along with him as he skipped. 

“Hey!” barked Mike, breaking out into a jog to keep up, nearly dropping Davy’s ice cream cone. As Micky pulled Davy along, the two barely missed a man who was running along the beach. 

“Will you guys slow down, you’re gonna fall or something!” Mike shouted. Eventually, Micky slowed down and Davy twisted out of his grasp, laughing hard. Micky inspected his cone. The ice cream had prevailed. There wasn’t a speck of sand on it. Mike caught up a minute later. 

“You shoulda skipped with us Mike,” Micky smiled, taking a bite out of his ice cream. Davy flinched at that, never understanding how Micky could just eat the ice cream instead of licking it. Davy sure as hell couldn’t bite his ice cream, speaking of which he took back his cone from Mike. 

“Well you didn’t give me much of a warning from the get go,” Mike pointed out. 

“Yeah man, could’ve given me a bit more warning too,” Davy agreed. Micky rolled his eyes, eating the last remnants of his ice cream cone before wrapping an arm around Davy’s shoulder, then Mike’s.

“Where there’s a way, there’s a will,” Micky quipped. 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Mike questioned, arching an eyebrow. 

“How am I supposed to know? It’s a quote,” Micky answered. Mike shook his head and was about to argue how stupid that answer was but instead Davy interjected with, “Let’s get back to the pad. Make sure Peter hasn’t tried to cook anything.” 

“Wonder if he’d set the kitchen on fire,” Micky wondered aloud. Mike gave Micky blank stare.

“Why would you even think about something like that?” Mike asked. 

“Because Michael, I think about the important things in this relationship,” was Micky’s reply. Almost as soon as the sentence left his mouth, Micky took off sprinting, laughing really hard. Mike set off after him, leaving Davy to just smile quietly to himself and follow the two of them at a leisurely pace. Eventually, Micky surrendered by falling to the ground for a moment and then jumping up, palms open wide. Mike gave Micky a whack to the shoulder and this exchange allowed Davy a chance to properly catch up. By the time the boys got back to the pad, the sun had nearly been swallowed up by the horizon and Peter was quietly sitting and reading that mornings paper (the comicstrip section of course). Davy decided to make dinner (nothing special of course, just some soup, which Peter appreciated quite a bit). After dinner had been eaten and cleaned up, Mike fooled around on his guitar while Micky and Davy sat around the kitchen table playing Battle Ship. Peter was avidly watching, as avidly as someone with a cold could of course. Davy always won Battle Ship but nonetheless Micky always put forth a great amount of effort into winning. This time round, it seemed to be paying off slightly though. 

“Go Micky, go!” Peter cheered as Micky rattled off where he thought one of Davy’s ships were. He got one hit in. Peter clapped his hands together but then sneezed. It sent him falling off the chair. Mike glanced up from his guitar. 

“You alright there Pete?” inquired Michael. 

“Yeah I’m just,” Peter sneezed again as he was getting up, followed by a chest rattling cough, “Sick.” He grabbed a tissue, blew his nose, and then disposed of it. Davy let out a brief whoop of joy as he sunk one of Micky’s battle ships. 

“Aw shucks man, I can never win at this game,” Micky mumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

“Why do you insist on playing against me then?” Davy asked, hoping he didn’t sound as if he were boasting (he wasn’t of course). 

“Because it’s a groovy game, ya know,” shrugged Micky in response. Davy could not argue with that logic and they finished out their game. Nearing the end, Mike packed up his guitar and wandered over to watch the end of game. In the end, Davy won but he had almost been beaten several times and it had nearly ended in a draw. With that finished, it was time for the guys to get ready for bed. Davy packed up Battle Ship while Peter and Micky were in the bathroom brushing their teeth. Once they were finished, it was Mike and Davy’s turn. After everyone had their teeth brushed and their PJs on, it was time for bed. 

“Goodnight Mike. Night Davy. Nighty night Peter, I hope you feel better in the morning,” Micky said, all in one go as he took the stairs two at a time. Peter, Davy, and Mike chorused a “goodnight Micky” in almost unison. Peter wandered into his and Davy’s bedroom after bidding both Mike and Davy a good night, despite the fact that he would say goodnight to Davy right before he went to sleep. Both replied with a good night and then Mike went upstairs to get into his bed. With that, Davy retreated to the bedroom. Peter was already in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin. 

 

“You comfy Peter?” Davy asked as he made his way to his bed. 

“Yeah,” answered Peter, although it sounded like there was a but on the end of that response. There was a beat of silence before Peter added, “Davy, I know it’s probably dumb, but could you tell me a story?” Davy frowned for a moment. 

“Of course I can mate. Stories always make Micky feel better when he’s sick, so I don’t see why it wouldn’t work on you,” Davy replied with a gentle smile. It was true, when Micky had been sick all he had done was nag the three of them for a story, any story, under the guise the stories helped heal sickness faster. Davy went over to Peter’s bed and sat on the edge. 

“Alright Peter, what kind of story would you like?” he asked. Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a minute or so. 

“A fairytale. Any one you know. You can make one up. I don’t care,” Peter finally replied, waiting for Davy to start the story of his choice as eager as someone who was ill could be.

“A fairytale,” Davy repeated, nodding his head, “I can handle that I think. Alright Peter. Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Goldilocks. She had been walking through the forest for quite some time and hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, when she had eaten her breakfast with her parents. So, you can imagine just how hungry Goldilocks was getting. Very hungry. So she kept walking, hoping to find somewhere that she could get something to eat and lucky for Goldilocks, she stumbled upon a little cottage in the woods. Now a family of bears lived in that cottage and they were currently out by the stream getting some water, but Goldilocks didn’t know this of course.” As Davy talked, Peter shut his eyes and listened, enjoying the story very much. But as Davy took a breath to continue, Peter opened his eyes and asked, “I’m sorry to interrupt Davy, but do you think Mike could come down and read me a story too?” Davy opened his mouth then shut it, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. Was his story not good enough for Peter? 

“I don’t see why I can’t go ask,” he shrugged, standing up. 

“Thank you Davy,” said Peter. Davy nodded and then went upstairs. He knocked on the door to Micky and Mike’s bedroom. 

“Wha’s it?” Micky slurred, indicating that Davy could come in. Davy poked his head inside. 

“Mike, can you come downstairs for a minute and tell Peter a story?” he asked. Mike sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Already Micky seemed to be back to sleep, snoring softly.

“Umm, I guess sure, but why can’t you?” Mike inquired as he rose out of bed. 

“Dunno really. I was telling him Goldilocks and then he asked for you,” explained Davy with a shrug. The two retreated downstairs, leaving Micky to sit up in bed wondering what had just happened (he had been pretending to sleep). It only took a second to get down to the bedroom, and Peter seemed to be asleep. 

“Peter?” Davy called out, wondering if perhaps his efforts had been for naught. That wouldn’t have been a problem of course, though it still would have been nice. But no, Peter cracked an eye open, still very much awake. 

“Hi Mike,” Peter grinned, then said to Davy, “Thank you Davy.” Davy moved a bit into the room and sat down on the edge of his own bed while Mike sat down on the edge of Peter’s. 

“Hey there man, Davy told me you want me to tell you a story but not Davy, what’s up with that man?” Mike inquired. 

“You both have pleasant voices,” explained Peter, pausing a moment to cover his mouth before he coughed, “I didn’t know who’d be better for getting me to sleep.” 

“Well,” Davy sighed, “It isn’t any weirder than Micky’s persistence in stories.”Again, this was a true statement. Micky hadn’t let any of them have a moment to breathe, constantly trying to get one of them to tell him a story (or make him food, either was a viable option). 

“Sorry,” Peter frowned, inching his way underneath the blankets a little bit more, his cheeks a bit flushed from embarrassment. This was interrupted by a sneeze. 

“No need to be sorry mate,” Davy assured his sick friend. 

“Yup, don’t sweat it,” Mike agreed. Peter smiled at his two friends thinking about how nice both of them were. 

“Thank you guys,” said Peter, before sneezing again.

“Alright then, let’s see. You want me to pick up where Davy left off or?” Mike questioned. Peter shook his head, saying, “No, you can tell a different one. Whichever story you want.” Mike nodded his head and thought about what story he should tell. He decided upon Little Red Riding Hood, considering that is was simple, easy, and short enough. They all needed sleep and Mike knew that Peter would fall asleep as soon as the story was ended, no matter how short or long it was.

“Okay man, I got a classic one,” Mike announced. Peter settled back down into the bed and Davy rested his head on his hands after propping his elbows upon his knees. 

“Alright, once upon a time there was a little girl who had a red hood,” Mike began, trying his best to recall everything he knew about Little Red Riding Hood, “Now one day, this little girl was told by her mom to go and bring some cookies to her grandma, who was sick. So the little girl took the box of cookies and-”

“It’s a basket Mike,” Davy interrupted. Peter nodded his head slightly, in agreement. Mike shot a glance at Davy, something that was a mix of annoyance and playfulness. Then he returned his attention back to Peter. 

“Alright, okay. So the little girl took the basket of cookies and put on her red cape and then left the house. She began to walk down the path through the woods to where her grandma lived and it was a very nice day out, wherever she lives ya know, and so she keeps on walkin’ and then suddenly she comes up on this bush. And in this bush there’s this pair of real big yellow eyes. The little girl was very scared cos things in bushes are dangerous,” Mike said in his best story-teller voice he could manage. Peter’s eyes were drooping for a moment but then he tugged the blankets down a little. 

“Mike, can I ask something?” Peter piped up, “Sorry I keep asking things.” 

“Sure ya can Pete,” Mike assured his friend. 

“Can you and Davy finished your stories at the same time? Like… like a mega story?” Peter inquired. 

“What, like we speak at the same time or make up on big story with both Goldilocks and Little Red Riding Hood in it together?” Davy asked for clarification. Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a moment then replied, “A story together.” Mike raised an eyebrow, giving Peter a hard look. 

“C’mon Pete, just let me finish this story and then you get your-,” Mike began but Davy cut in, saying, “No Mike, it’s okay. We can do it, I promise it won’t be hard.” Peter gave Davy a relieved, thankful glance. Davy scrambled out of his bed and over to Peter’s.

“Okay, fine, but how do you plan on doin’ this thing?” Mike inquired. 

“Well I think you be Little Red Riding Hood and I’ll be Goldilocks and they can meet at the cabin and we’ll go from there,” Davy explained. Mike gave Davy a questioning look. He said, “What do you mean by I be Little Red Riding Hood?” Davy waved a hand at Mike and turned to Peter. 

“You settled in and ready Peter?” he asked. Peter nodded his response. 

“And you promise to let Mike and me finish this story, then go right to sleep?” Davy added. 

“Yes Davy, I promise,” Peter promised. 

“Good,” Davy beamed, “Then I’ll start.” The smaller man cleared his throat and then began, “One day my mum gave me a basket to take to my grandmum’s house, which was also being lived in by a family of bears, because you know this economy.” Peter giggled a little because Davy was speaking in a pretty high pitched voice, trying to emulate a little girl’s voice. Mike gaped at the Englishman. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he groaned upon realizing what Davy had meant by ‘you be Little Red Riding Hood’. Davy elbowed him in the side. 

“Play along mate, it won’t kill you,” Davy responded, in an almost teasing manner. Mike shot him a glare, but he didn’t see another way out of it. Running a hand through his hair, Mike began in a shrill voice, “My name’s Goldilocks. And one day I was walkin’ round the woods and got real hungry and saw a cabin. Thought to myself, that seems like a good place to get some food. So I wandered over to the cabin.” The grin on Peter’s face was priceless, almost worth this torture. The look on Davy’s face was not worth it though. All it made Mike feel was embarrassed. Granted it was a happy sort of embarrassed. None of the guys could make Mike feel bad, let alone Davy Jones, but the red in his cheeks couldn’t be helped. 

“I was walking along the woods and I saw a wolf in this big bush. He said to me,” Davy continued, dropping his voice to as low of a growl as he could manage, “‘Hello little girl, where are you off to?’ Now, I’m not one to trust nasty old wolves so I said, ‘I’m going down to the river to catch some fish’. The wolf seemed to buy this so I went on my way. It didn’t take me long to get to my grandmum’s cottage.” Peter’s eyes were beginning to droop again, a permanent soft smile on his face. Mike paused a moment to think of what he should say next. 

“Alright. So I saw this cabin and I was real hungry… so as I was goin’ towards that cabin I saw this big ole wolf run into the cabin. I was real confused but I didn’t put anything to it, cos all I wanted was some food. So I go in and there isn’t any food, just a note from some three bears who I guessed were living in that house too,” Michael said carefully, wondering if this was the right thing to say. He glanced at Davy and didn’t see the little man pulling a distressed face, so perhaps Mike was on the right track. 

“Now I was finally at my grandmum’s cottage and the front door was open. I went inside, cautiously, and saw a blonde little girl. I said to that girl, ‘What on earth are you doing in my grandmum’s cottage?’,” said Davy. 

“I’m really hungry, can I get some food?” Mike asked, pretending to be Goldilocks of course. 

“Food! Well, I suppose you can have some of these cookies as soon as I give these to my grandmum,” Davy answered, as Little Red Riding Hood of course. Mike exarrated his thinking look. 

“Well hold on just a second, I saw a wolf go into that room over there,” Mike murmured, pointing towards a corner of the room as if he really were Goldilocks. Davy put on a shocked expression. 

“That’s my grandmum’s room!” he gasped. He moved his arms at his sides to simulate that he was going into another room. Mike followed suit, deciding that Goldilocks would follow Little Red Riding Hood as well. Davy leaned down and broke character for a moment, asking, “Hey Peter, would you mind playing the wolf?” Peter opened his eyes (they had closed at some point) and replied, “Alright Davy.” Davy cleared his throat. 

“Grandmum, are you okay?” Davy inquired in his best worried voice. 

“I’m okay Little Red,” Peter answered, his voice already rough from coughing all day. He sneezed a moment later. He made a perfect sick grandma, and an alright sick wolf pretending to be a sick grandma.

“Where’d the wolf go?” Mike frowned, looking around the room. 

“What wolf?” Peter inquired, trying his best to sound cautious and sinister. 

“I saw a wolf come in here,” Mike stated. 

“My grandmum, what big eyes you have,” Davy wondered, nudging Mike in the ribs with his elbow. Peter grinned, understanding that Davy was letting “Goldilocks” know that something was up with his grandma. 

“The better to see you with my dear,” coughed Peter. 

“Wow baby, what big ears ya got there,” Mike commented, giving “Little Red Riding Hood” an understanding nod. 

“Oh, the better to hear you with my dear,” Peter tried to sound menacing, his voice cracking slightly. This crack sent him into another cough. 

“My, grandmum, what big teeth you have,” Davy gasped, clinging onto Mike for dramatic effect. 

“The better to eat you with my dear!” Peter exclaimed, then sneezed. Mike and Davy jumped, pretending to be very frightened, and they clung to each other. Then Mike narrated what was happening, “In this sudden turn of events, Goldilocks and Little Red quickly hatched a plan. Little Red ran and got the three bears while Goldilocks distracted the wolf. Papa bear came back first and then got rid of the wolf for good. Little Red’s grandma was found sleeping the closet.” 

“Little Red Riding Hood woke her grandmum up and helped her back into bed. Then the three bears, Little Red, Goldilocks, and her grandmum all shared the wonderful cookies Little Red’s mum had baked,” Davy picked up the story when Mike took a pause for breath. 

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Mike concluded. Peter gave both of them a sleepy smile. 

“Thanks guys, you’re the best,” Peter murmured, eyelids drooping until they closed shut. 

“Goodnight Peter,” Davy grinned, getting up and clambering back into his own bed. Peter’s only response was a snore. 

“Night Pete,” Mike echoed, tucking Peter into the bed a little bit more securely. He turned to Davy and said, “Goodnight Davy.” 

“Night Mike,” Davy grinned, hopping up for a moment and giving Mike a big squeeze, pecking the texan on the cheek. Mike smiled at Davy and then exited the room, leaving the smaller man to climb under his covers. Coming out of the room, Mike nearly headbutted Micky, who had been eavesdropping in on the storytelling. 

“Gosh darn it Mick, what the hell?” Mike cried, clutching at his chest. Micky stumbled backward, equally as startled. 

“Sorry man, couldn’t help it,” he shrugged. Mike gave Micky a shove towards the stairs. 

“Well, let’s just get back to bed,” grumbled Michael.

“You guys are like a married couple you know,” Micky teased, giving Mike a cheeky grin. Michael rolled his eyes and slapped Micky on the shoulder. 

“We’ve got an interview for a gig tomorrow, so you best be getting to bed, and lemme get some shut eye too,” Mike snapped. Micky turned around on the stairs, so that he was walking backwards. Mike shook his head at him. 

“You think we could get Davy to do another story with you, cos I’d love to hear another of those groovy stories man,” he continued to tease, although at this point, it was light humour. 

“Turn around Micky, before you trip and break your neck or something,” instructed Michael. Micky gave Mike a friendly smile before turning around again (so that he was facing front) and clambered up the last of the steps.


End file.
